


Like I Am Floating

by DwarvenBeardSpores



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Emetophobia, Established Relationship, M/M, Not-hurt/comfort, Seasickness, Vomiting, dramatic bastards, emetophobia warning, the Tundra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22160014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenBeardSpores/pseuds/DwarvenBeardSpores
Summary: Elias closed his eyes. He closed his eyes and he gripped tight to the cold metal rail of theTundraand he heaved into the sea.Things were not going to plan.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 158





	Like I Am Floating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HoloXam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoloXam/gifts).



> Holoxam and I came up with this concept together whilst talking about these terrible men, and it turns out I can’t resist a good seasickness prompt. 
> 
> Also, according to AO3, this is my 69th posted work. _NICE._. I’d been thinking I should post something sexy, but I don’t really have anything sexy in the works and I don’t want to wait. So here is Elias hurling into the sea. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Elias closed his eyes. He closed his eyes and he gripped tight to the cold metal rail of the  _ Tundra  _ and he heaved into the sea.

Things were not going to plan.

Oh, yes, he knew all about Peter’s ship now. Being on deck had been close enough for him to See all the nooks and crannies, the eccentricities of the construction, the personal touches Peter thought didn’t exist but which very much did. It had taken long enough. For years now Elias had known about the _Tundra_ , had listened to Peter’s vague allusions of his sea travels, had paid attention to shipping lists and crew rosters. It was about time he got to See the thing without that irritating cloud of the Lonely getting in his--

The sea rolled and Elias’s stomach rolled with it.

_ Fuck. _

Into the water went  the  _ moules _ _ frites _ and white wine Elias had spent the evening enjoying. The back of his throat burned. Despite his best attempts, flecks of vomit hit his sleeves, caught on his lips. He spat bitterly into the sea.

Peter came up behind him, and Elias’s eyes were still closed but he could See the furrow of concern between Peter’s brows.  _ Go away  _ he thought, tried to project, but after decades of ignoring things the surface of Peter’s mind was a smooth as a rain slicker and the command slid into the night. “Go--” Elias began aloud, before the next course made itself known.

“Oh dear,” Peter said mildly. “I am sorry, Elias.”

It wasn’t even storming. Sheets of rain plastering his hair to his forehead, frothing waters, those would have made this humiliating situation almost tolerable. Appropriately dramatic. But no. No, the sea was, the Eye told him helpfully, mildly choppy at best, despite what--

_ Fuck.  _

Peter was still there. Hovering. “The sea doesn’t agree with everybody,” he said. There was something genuine in his voice that turned Elias’s stomach almost as much as the rolling of the boat.

Elias could not muster a retort. He didn’t dare lift his head. Turning his attention to Peter and trying to read him during the less terrible intervals didn’t exactly  _ help,  _ but Elias did it anyway. Peter wasn’t a schemer, but surely there was some smugness in him, some sense that he’d anticipated this and was going to use it to his advantage. Perhaps Simon had put him up to it; that Vast bastard knew what vertigo did to Elias. He could have made an educated guess about seasickness.

“I’ve set course back to the dock,” Peter said. “Won't be long now.”

There was  little for Elias to find.  No real compassion, which was a relief; Elias had a lot staked on Peter’s disinterested misanthropy. But Peter had an air of trying out something new, of playing a different sort of husband, and the unfortunate part was that he was  _ earnest  _ about it.

Elias’s  head spun as he pulled back his  G aze. He had long suspected that the Eye made his nausea worse;  that watching too many things made it impossible to compensate for  the unsteadiness of his body. Those who served the eye were not meant to be in motion. The sea was a terrible thing.

And then Peter put his hand on Elias’s back, right between his shoulder blades. Elias had once thought the Lukas family would run cold, like their patron, but he had soon learned otherwise. Peter’s hand was warm; he was always warm, so Elias could feel his absence more keenly.

His hand had been warm against the small of Elias’s back as they boarded the  _ Tundra  _ earlier in the evening. It was as much to keep Elias from wandering off as it was any type of affection, but Elias had enjoyed it. He h ad accepted Peter steering the boat through the Lonely as a shortcut to the open sea. Had made a genuine attempt to enjoy the quiet of an empty night, far from land . It had been, for a short while, rather romantic.

This, though. Elias’s skin crawled. He would have shaken Peter  off but he was hit with another bout of nausea and it was all he could do to stay upright.

“There, there,” said Peter, and Elias wanted to rip his tongue out.

Back in the day, Simon had laughed when Elias got ill. He had been _delighted_ and Elias had ruined a painting of his in retaliation. The result was a deep point of bitterness that was nearing a century old, and that was fine. Preferable, even.

Peter Lukas had no business being  _ kind. _

Still, he stayed until Elias had nothing left to expel, until his heaving  stopped and he hung, limp, over the rail. Then he gently pulled Elias up and held him against his chest, told Elias he’d find him a place to lie down, maybe track down some water.

He ran a calloused thumb, disgustingly warm, across Elias’s sweaty forehead and  tsked gently. Elias clung to him because his other option was collapsing on the deck. Accepted the handkerchief Peter pulled from his pocket because it was better than damaging his suit further by wiping his face with a sleeve.

He shivered. This body was a traitor.

Peter pulled him closer, and Elias didn’t fight. He was warm and solid and Elias could play this charade until they reached dry land. Until the world stopped its ceaseless rolling.

Less than an hour, now. Less than an hour to pretend he felt anything other than loathing for Peter Lukas.

Peter set him down on a cot, in the middle of the ship where the rocking was less bad, near a porthole if Elias wanted to watch the horizon. He didn’t. He pursed his lips and folded one hand over his stomach.

“Stay with me,” Elias said, because he might as well make Peter miserable too.

“Elias,” Peter began, then stopped.

Elias closed his eyes .  He closed his eyes  and gripped Peter’s hand so tightly that it hurt, so tightly that Peter started becoming intangible under his fingers,  and began writing up divorce papers in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear what you think. 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr as dwarven-beard-spores, twitter as @beardspores, and dreamwidth as dwarvenbeardspores.


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